


Going Off Leash

by SaloonMistress74



Series: Amor Vincit Omnia (Love Conquers All) [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Dialogue, Coping, Darkness before the light, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Going into darkness, Helpful Cole, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mixed up order, Sexual Content, Smut, Spirit Cole (Dragon Age), The Dawn will come, The Fade, did I mention smut?, leading up to fluff, married before Trespasser, there's always hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaloonMistress74/pseuds/SaloonMistress74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen is trying to cast off his lyrium leash, but is there something more to his addiction than meets the eye? Can love really conquer all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMageRebellion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMageRebellion/gifts).



> This is the third instalment of my series: Amor Vincit Omnia (Love Conquers All). This will be a journey for Cullen and Evelyn, full of darkness and light, and I hope you come along for the ride. The first chapter is short, but here we start. Can Cullen beat this addiction or will Evelyn lose him to it?

Cullen woke suddenly, bolting upright in bed. For a time he was completely disoriented, his heart and his mind racing, the panicked need to flee warring with the rational need to figure out where he was.      

These were the moments that he hated most, the moments of transition between the experiences of torture in the Fade and the return to the normal of the waking world. These were moments of such sheer confusion laced with fear and he'd often wondered if this was what full lyrium madness was,  forever stuck in that in-between state.

Even as Cullen came to the full awareness of his surroundings, he shuttered as though the lingering feelings could be shaken from his being.

He rested his face in his hands, scrubbing his calloused palms roughly over his eyes to bring him into complete wakefulness, and let out a long, weary breath. He felt a stirring beside him in the bed and stiffened as a cold hand came to rest on his sweat covered back.

"Nightmare," his wife, Evelyn, commented, knowing enough that it was no longer a question. "Are you alright?" she asked and Cullen found himself being soothed just by the sound of her sleepy voice.

He reached over and smoothed the tangled hair away from her face so that he could anchor himself in her eyes.

"I'm alright, love. These nightmares just won't leave me and I'm exhausted. Is it too much to ask to have just one night of absolute peace?" he sighed, defeated a little bit more every time that he resigned himself to a life of this.

Evelyn traced her fingertips in soothing patterns over his back, allowing her ice magic to keep them cool against his flushed skin. Cullen loved it and allowed himself to close his eyes and focus on that movement. She did it as both a comfort and a mindfulness exercise to help him focus on the present moment and sensations to pull him back out of the memories of his past. It worked this time as it had the others and in minutes his breathing was calm and steady again.

He collapsed back down onto the pillows and pulled his wife into a grateful embrace.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Squeezing Evelyn tighter, he shivered at the thought of what he could become if he couldn't fight through the madness to break his lyrium leash. The amount of stress they were all under since their return from the Arbor Wilds, the constant driving need to find a way to defeat Corypheus for good, brought him to his knees some days with the desperate desire to have lyrium again, as though it had only been days without it instead of a year and a half.

He tried to keep that burden to himself, but Evelyn was so astute and attentive that she'd been able to anticipate the worst times and make arrangements for the two of them outside of Skyhold for an afternoon or for a hot bath and the promise of no interruptions in their room for an evening so that she could help him claw his way back, mentally and emotionally, from the brink. She made him feel whole again...alive.

Cullen pulled Evelyn even closer into the curve of his body as though every one of his cells could fuse with hers if he could only get close enough. He needed her and she offered no  resistance, letting her body be loose in his arms.

At her soft hum of pleasure, Cullen, already aroused from her nimble fingers tracing patterns on his back, couldn't help himself from subtly thrusting his hard length against her soft bottom. His body tensed and his erection pulsed as it slid along the satin of her nightgown.

"Cullen," she whimpered.

"Evelyn...I need..." he growled in desperation.

"Yes...yes, I'm yours," she answered, acceptance and love infusing her words.

Cullen rucked up the gown so that it pooled around her waist and let his long, broad fingers trail over her flat stomach to her already wet sex. He pressed two fingers into her, coating them, and then rubbed the slippery digits over her sensitive bud.

She cried out at the exquisite sensation and Cullen growled again as she pressed back against him, rubbing the cleft of her bottom along his shaft and then rocking forward to get more pressure from his fingers just where she wanted it.

He felt crazed with need.

In a heartbeat he flipped her onto her back and his big body loomed over her. Cullen pressed himself between her thighs where she'd opened herself for him and reached up to pin her arms above her head, holding both wrists in one of his strong hands, the other pinned her hip to the mattress, keeping her from moving as his cock slipped against her damp heat.

He ached inside. He needed this like he needed his next breath. He needed to bury himself inside her, to have her reclaim him from the nightmare, to draw it out of him along with his seed, to make him feel alive again.

The crown of his shaft nudged her entrance.

"I'm sorry," he bit out, his voice low and almost frighteningly rough. "I can't be gentle."

"I'm yours," she repeated, her voice, gentle and welcoming, shifted into a breathy gasp as he plunged himself inside of her.

His instinct screamed at him to ride her body hard to completion, to lose himself in the moist clench of her sex, but he fought himself for control. 

He loved her. He could acknowledge that she was giving and he was taking, but he could still try to make it good for her.

He tried to draw upon the memory of the dance they shared at the Winter Palace ages ago. Evelyn had loved that dance and Cullen had often used the rhythm of it to time his thrusts in a way that drew out her pleasure.

Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow...

Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow...

Over and over.

She let out a low keening sound and Cullen felt her grow wetter in a rush. Her body trembled  beneath his and her legs flew around him, pressing him deeper into her as the heels of her feet pressed into his muscled ass.

He released her wrists and instantly felt her fingers dig into his arms as she clutched him to keep steady.

Cullen was awash in a sea of ecstasy and all thoughts of rhythm disappeared. All he could feel was the desperate need to pump his seed inside her body, to make a part of him a part of her and be whole again. His breath was ragged. His hands trailed beneath her to cup her luscious bottom, to lift her and seat himself as deeply as possible inside her body.

He was vaguely aware of her cry as she came violently around his aching cock, but in the same moment he emptied  himself, mind, body and spirit, inside of her, back bowed from the force of his own release.

Her legs released their grip, falling down heavily from his waist, and Cullen pulled himself from the safety of her body, collapsing beside her once more.

He looked over at Evelyn, her eyes closed and chest still heaving as she continued to come down from her climax. He leaned  over, swept some of her damp, silver-blonde hair from her face and brushed her flushed cheek with the back of his fingers. She hummed and leaned into his touch.

After a moment she opened her eyes and looked into his.

"They're getting worse, aren't they?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he answered.

"I can't remember them after...only fragments, sparks of terror...but, yes. They're getting worse. Sometimes I'm afraid that I won't wake up, that they'll claim me..."

"Shhhhh..." Evelyn whispered and Cullen's body stilled at her command. "I've claimed you," she said, placing his hand over her heart. "Here is where you belong, with me, my husband. My love."

She opened her arms for him and he settled himself within them. Emptied of torment and refilled with her, he let himself drift into sleep once more.


	2. Blue Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lyrium withdrawal worsens, leaving Cullen exhausted and worn. The desire demons from his nightmares seep into his daily thoughts and cause him to lose control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it's taken me a month to post another chapter. I've got more written so it shouldn't take as long to get the next one out. This is a darker chapter and as my forte is fluff, I was a little worried about this one. Please do let me know if I've captured a lyrium addled Cullen in your mind. I would greatly appreciate the feedback. Also, I know I'll have to make some edits once my eyes uncross and I can read it again without skipping over words :) Thank you for being patient with me.

Over the weeks, Cullen’s nightmares took a deeper toll on him, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. He was on edge every second of the  day, the headaches were relentless until they blended together into a never ending ache, never easing.   

He remembered more and more about his dreams, reliving past torture in his mind whenever there wasn’t anything else to occupy it. He trained harder and longer with the troops to keep his focus, but because he was also not eating as much, his constant agony making meals unpalatable, he was exhausted all the time. The control he had on his reactions was threadbare and he avoided speaking to anyone as much as possible for fear of tearing out their throat for looking at him the wrong way. If not for his wife, he feared that he’d be lost. She was his only balm, his safe place, his anchor. He agonized every time that he snapped at her and tried so hard to rein in the harshness that seemed to underline his every interaction. Evelyn, however, was soft and calm. She tore through the haze with an icy hand  on his brow and soothing words. She offered him the shelter of her body and didn’t take his lashing out personally, waiting it out and approaching him from another angle. She was a miracle and he prayed every day that this bout of withdrawal would end so that he could begin to make it up to her as she deserved.   

* * *

Cullen woke in the morning to a bleak sunrise, barely visible through the morning fog that blanketed  Skyhold . The light coming in through the glazed doors of the  balcony was a sickly yellow/grey and reflected how he was feeling perfectly. Evelyn still slept beside him, but there would be no more trying to rest for him, he acknowledged as he got up from the bed to don his underclothes and armour.  

He had tried to avoid deep sleep, only allowing himself catnaps as often as possible, but his exhausted body had given in the night before and he was dragged into the Fade once again. He now remembered it all in horrifying detail.

In the Fade, he’d been brought back to  Fereldan, to the time of the Fifth Blight where he’d been held as a prisoner at Kinloch Hold,  Fereldan’s premier Circle. Once again he was a prisoner in his dream, helpless and desperate. 

Part of him had known that it was dream, but the Fade still pulled true feelings, true responses of terror and hopelessness from his already weak body. 

In his dream, he’d flailed against his prison as he’d watched the people that he cared about be tortured repeatedly by abominations and demons. Those demons would parade someone in front of his prison, flaunting their prey to entice his screams of rage and agony, every pound of flesh, every piece of his soul that they could take from him. They would inevitably either corrupt their hostage, turning them into abominations before his eyes, or outright kill them as Cullen watched powerlessly. 

Though none had been present in reality at Kinloch Hold during the Blight, Cullen watched as, instead of his fellow Templars, his parents, his siblings, his nieces and nephews…and Evelyn, were all torn to pieces or befouled by the demons in an endless, repeating cycle. It had been so thoroughly burned into his mind that even when he was awake, he could swear he could see the abominations or demons out of the corner of his eye throughout the day or hear the screams of his family or the seductive laughter of desire demons when he wasn’t focused.

It had been days now that Cullen woke up each morning, going through the motions of his day, for Evelyn, for the Inquisition, but secretly wishing for oblivion.

As he rose that morning, dressed, stepped outside and closed the door to their chambers, he collapsed on the stairs, running his gloved hands over his face and grabbing fistfuls of his hair to stop himself from breaking down completely.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the Champions of the Just,” he recited as he rocked back and forth on the steps, fighting himself for composure.

“Blessed are the  righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written,” he whispered, finishing the passage from Benedictions.

“Maker,” he gritted out through his teeth, “give me strength to endure this.”

“Cullen?” he heard Evelyn call to him from beyond the door. “Is everything alright?”

Cullen mentally shook himself as he stood. “Everything is fine, love,” he projected his voice, hoping that it sounded confident. “I’m just going to train before the war council. I’ll meet you there later.”

He could feel her hesitation. “Alright, Cullen. I’ll see you later then.”

She paused.

“Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

He could hear the worry in her voice and it ate at him that he was the cause of it. He hadn’t even been able to give her four good months of marriage before this seemed to worsen. Evelyn reminded him often of the vow that they had made to each other, but he hadn’t expected to lean so heavily on her promise so soon. Guilt added to the wear and tear of his body and mind.

“I love you, too,” he replied, though he didn’t feel worthy of it, and made his way down the stairs, through to the main hall and out into the drizzle of rain and the muddy practice field to try to forget… for a little while.   

* * *

The war council droned on for hours. Every detail had been gone over from every direction, each advisor turning over every possibility as it applied to the Inquisition’s military, political and intelligence  operations.They’d rehashed all of their knowledge about the possible movement of  Corypheus and his army of Red Templars,  trying to anticipate when  and where  their final confrontation  with the ancient  Magister would take place. In the meantime, rumours of an  Avvar invasion had reached  Leliana’s agents, that threated the Inquisition’s fragile ally,  Orlais.  An attack on  Orlais would leave them  divided and  vulnerable  should Corypheus take advantage and attack at the same time, and so the Inquisition planned to send troops to the  Frostback Basin to investigate. The war council went over the coordination efforts with  Orlais as the Empress and the Inquisition’s ambassador had  both  expressed interest in using this venture as an opportunity  to  also  do research in the area that was usually  so  closed to them. The Inquisition’s troops, the Inquisitor and her selected team were to head out in a matter of days.  

The pressure in Cullen’s head had been steadily increasing as time progressed in the meeting. The dull ache that had started at the back of his neck had spread upward until it was exploding at random intervals behind his eyes with no discernible pattern that would allow him to compensate. It took all of his effort to concentrate and be responsive when the others were speaking.

A hot lance of pain spiked behind his eye and Cullen stumbled for a moment.

“Commander, are you alright?” Josephine asked, reaching out to steady him.

“I’m fine!” he snapped, only to catch  himself and offer more gently “It’s just a headache. I’m fine. Thank you.”

But he wasn’t fine. As he lifted his head to look at the others, every muscle in his body stilled.

Standing beside his wife, who didn’t seem to be aware, was one of the demons from his nightmares. It was all lush curves, barely concealed by gauzy material and delicate chain. It’s frighteningly attractive face held bottomless black eyes, promising the oblivion that he so craved and its horns curled sensuously over either side of its head, cradling a violet flame.

_It’s a hallucination,_ he thought immediately. _The others can’t see it, I haven’t slept,_ _ it’s just a hallucination. It’s not really there. Wait it out and it will go away_. 

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, anxiety shooting through his nervous system.

A sultry laugh forced his eyes open again.

“Look at your wife, Templar,” the demon purred. “I can see why you desire her so greatly. She's rather alluring.” It trailed the tips of its clawed fingers slowly along Evelyn’s unfeeling collarbone.

Cullen sucked in a breath, eyes wide open, part of him waiting for the others to acknowledge its presence.

“I’m in your mind, Templar.  Soooo deep inside it,” it explained. “I can hear your every thought and desire. I can do this,” it said as it turned and licked a slow stripe up Evelyn’s cheek, “and you are the only one to know it. Isn’t this…intimate?” It smiled seductively.

“Josephine,” Evelyn’s voice startled Cullen’s attention away from the hallucination. “Could you go over the itinerary for the new visiting dignitaries from Val  Royeaux ? If they’re going to broker support on our behalf with the Council of Nobles, I want to personally show them the workings of the Inquisition as much as possible. If they feel that we are giving them our best, they might be more  inclined to divert the troops and supplies from the Exalted Plains to  Skyhold . That support would go a long way to securing  Skyhold while we take the troops to the Basin. The interest from the University on an academic level is already going to be very helpful in  funding a base of operations.

“A most inspired suggestion, Inquisitor.  It  is a rare opportunity to get into  Avvar territory and it was an alliance between  Orlais and the last Inquisition that stopped the last attempted  Avvar invasion 800 years ago. Inquisitor  Ameridan never returned from the mission. Perhaps  that could be an interesting angle for  Orlais' University to pursue.” Josephine tapped her quill to her lips. “And the visiting Lords and Ladies are competitive enough to want to curry the most favour with the Inquisition, especially if the personal attention of the most powerful woman in  Thedas could also be won. I have the full list of names and activities over here, Inquisitor, if you’d like to see."

Evelyn shifted so that she could peer over to the pages that Josephine began gathering together, leaning across the war table.

Cullen’s stomach dropped as the vision of the demon appeared between the two women, running its hand down his wife’s hair and down her spine as though it were stroking a cat.

“Oh, look, Templar. Do you think when she was dressing this morning, your wife was thinking of you?” It continued to pet at the dress Evelyn wore, up and down like a lover. 

“It’s so soft and smooth. So blue, like…lyrium, Templar,” its voice flowing over him like honey. “Lyrium blue covering your precious wife, like she wants you to crave her, to consume her as much as you crave it. Is she as delicious,” it drawled, “as  lyrium is, Templar?”

The creature stared at him, its head tilted to the side as it questioned him.

Cullen’s arms and legs began to tremble slightly and he grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands so as not to draw attention to his situation.

_Merciful Maker, I can’t do this_ , he shivered as he fought the unwanted desire that began to flood his unwilling body, brought on by the coaxing of the hallucination.  Nausea mixed in and Cullen knew that he needed to escape.

“I –, ” he started, angry with himself for feeling weak. “I’m sorry everyone, the hour’s growing late and I still need to see to some business in the Undercroft before  Dagna and  Harrit break for their meal. Can we reconvene later, if necessary, or work by messenger if there is anything further we need to discuss today?”

“I think that’s quite fair,”  Leliana said as she peered warily at Cullen’s pale face.  “Inquisitor?”

Cullen looked at his wife again and noted the worried look on her face. He sighed. It couldn’t be helped.

“Yes, of course. Josephine and I will just go over a few more housekeeping details for the preparations, but it’s nothing that should keep either of you from your duties.”

“Very well," Leliananodded. “I’ll station the runners at their regular posts, should we need to communicate further.”

Cullen couldn’t make it out of the war room fast enough, his eyes cast down to the floor, trying to block out the disturbing illusion.  He could hear the breathy laughter of the demon reverberating in his thoughts as he pushed past the women and stepped into the hallway.

He made his way straight for the Undercroft, one hand tight against the back of his neck and the other still grasping the hilt of his sword. The  lyrium withdrawal, his lack of sleep and the hallucination was causing his skin to itch uncontrollably  and if his hands weren’t firmly in place as they were, he was afraid that he’d be clawing divots into his skin before long.

He burst into the Undercroft, much to the surprise of Master  Harrit and  Dagna, and ordered them out without any explanation or politeness. He knew that he was being unprofessional and rude. It rankled him, but he was beyond being able to help it. He would do his best later to apologize properly to the pair. In that moment he needed solitude, space and the rushing sound of the waterfall pouring down the far side of  Skyhold's crafting room to drown out his thoughts, to give him a moment to regroup and regain his fragile control.

The smith and the  archanist rushed out without a word in double time, the Commander's voice making it clear that he would brook no argument.

As he heard the click of the door as they closed it behind them, Cullen ran to the railing and vomited bile and whatever bits of food he'd been able to consume over the side, heaving as though he could purge himself of the  lyrium and the horrifying thoughts occupying his mind, letting it all be washed away by the rushing water down the side of the mountain. The misty spray was cool on his face and for a brief moment he could pretend that the wetness there didn't come from his own hot tears of fear and frustration. 

He clung to the railing, so very tired and empty of all desire to endure.

"Cullen?"

He didn't even react when cool fingers brushed along the nape of his neck, massaging the place where his tension sat. He knew it had only been a matter of time before Evelyn sought him out after his behaviour that morning and in the war room.

He turned on his knees and pressed his face to the soft cotton covering the hard muscle of her belly and wrapped his arms tightly around her hips. 

Her hands went into his hair, holding him to her while her nails lightly scratched his neck and scalp, drawing some of his focus from his despair to that rhythmic movement. 

Cullen gulped in huge breaths of air as he tried to bring himself back from the brink. He stood up and Evelyn pulled him close again to rest her forehead against his, silent and strong. He felt stronger with her.

"It's bad,  Ev. It's really bad," he whispered.

"How bad? What aren't you telling me?" she asked softly as she kissed his shaking hands.

"I can't concentrate and I've been having waking dreams. They are...disturbing. I can't stand how it's affecting me. I can't stand the thought of any of this touching you, hurting you.

Evelyn brought one of Cullen's hands to her chest where he could feel the sturdy beat of her heart. "Feel that?" she asked, her voice soft and sure, "I'm alright, Cullen. I'm safe. You've done nothing to hurt me, love. Let me be here for you."

"You have too much on your plate to worry about me too,  Ev. I should be helping you with your burdens, not the other way around."

"Cullen Rutherford. I am your wife and your partner. It is the only role that I have willingly chosen for myself in all of my life and you will allow me to fulfill  it," she replied sternly.

"Oh, yes, Templar," a voice from behind the Inquisitor purred. "Why don't you take from her? Let her perform her 'wifely' duties. All dressed in  lyrium blue... taste her, Templar. Isn't that what you need?" the illusion of the luscious beast circled them. Cullen caught the movement out of the corner of his eye before squeezing them shut again. "Don't question it. It's simple. You'll feel so much better, Templar.  She can please you, ease you. I might be quieter then. Take it, Templar."

Cullen opened his eyes and whined lowly at the sight of the apparition of the desire demon, slowly rubbing lithe fingers over its large exposed breasts.

Without meaning to, the hand that had been feeling Evelyn's heartbeat, curved to squeeze her breast in response.

At Evelyn's startled gasp and the lustful sounds of the dream demon in his ears, he pulled Evelyn tighter against him and devoured her mouth even has he walked her backward to the crafting table until it hit the back of her knees and she was suddenly sitting upon it. 

One arm swept out at what was covering the table, sending scraps of leather, cloth and chainmail to the floor with bottles of dyes and a large pair of cutting shears. The other hand was pulling the material of her dress up to expose her small clothes. 

At the sight of her, he pressed his thumbs against the material, making it wet with her arousal.

"Cullen, wait..."

He couldn't hear her. 

He dropped to his knees in front of her and spread her knees with his hands, prepared to strip the small bit of cloth down her thighs and fulfill his impulse to devour her.

"Cullen, not here..."

There was a pressure pushing at his shoulders, but all he could think of was the emptiness inside of him and the need to fill it with something. He leaned in.

"CULLEN! STOP!"

The words snapped him to attention. His eyes and thoughts focused on her as his delusion seemed to pop like a bubble around him. He was suddenly crystal clear and looking at Evelyn's confused and worried face as he sat back on his heels and Evelyn stood up from the crafting table, letting her dress settle around her.

Evelyn's eyes were wide, like huge sapphire gemstones, her fingers pressed to her lips as she shook her head. "Cullen, I- I'm..."

He didn't know what she was going to say, whether she was going to chastise him or try to take ownership of what had just happened, but he couldn't let her finish.

He rocketed to his feet and practically ran the length of the room, clutching fistfuls of his hair and roaring in frustration and horror.

"Maker, send me to the Void! Evelyn," he choked. "Maker,  Ev , I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me! To put you in that kind of situation when anyone could have walked in... You're not only my wife, you're the Inquisitor, I'm your Commander, the damage that could have been done to your reputation, the reputation of the entire Inquisition... I don't know what's happening. It's as though I can't wake up. It's as though nothing is real."

He placed his hands on the tinting table with his back to her, hunched over. He couldn't hide the shake in his shoulders as he wept.

"Forgive me, please."

"There's nothing to forgive," she immediately tried to soothe. "You stopped. I love you, you love me and together we will work this out. Just talk to me."

He could tell that she was walking toward him as her voice got closer.

He whirled to face her, one hand held in front of him to stop her advancement, agony etched on his face.

"What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man am I right now?" he gritted out through his teeth.

He stopped her again when she made to come toward him, knowing that she would try to placate him and rationalize what happened, but he knew that the situation was beyond that already. He couldn't let her try. His control was so frayed and the events of the day had shown him that he could no longer deny his condition. He knew what had to be done.

It was time to see Cassandra.

Without a word, he left Evelyn standing in the middle of the Undercroft.


	3. Chantry Leash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has left Evelyn confused and she searches for answers. Both of them worry that they're failing the other, but they'll soon find out that both are stronger than they think they are.

Evelyn stood numbly, watching Cullen walk away. _How have things become so out of control?_ She thought, confused and hurt.

She knew that Cullen had been more tense than usual and that he wasn’t sleeping well, his nightmares coming with more frequency. Recent days had found him more distant and reserved and she had done her best to try to anticipate his needs, to mitigate the severity of his withdrawal symptoms, but she couldn’t help feeling that she’d missed some vital clue. How had she not known that it had become so bad and why had he felt that he couldn’t talk to her about it?

She was left with more questions than answers and it couldn’t stay that way. She needed to talk to him before it became worse.

Cullen’s behaviour had escalated since that morning, faster than she could have anticipated and it left her worried and reeling. She’d come to find him in the Undercroft to see if she could mix a potion for his headache or to convince him to ride out through the mountains for some fresh air and quiet.

 _Too late,_ she thought. _Too late!_

Evelyn paced the length of the Undercroft. It was unlikely that he’d gone back to his tower, knowing that she’d just follow him there.

_Think, think, think._

She couldn’t just run all over Skyhold looking for him. There was no way to go without notice and she had the visiting dignitaries that were not only loitering in the Great Hall, but in the courtyard, tavern and gardens. She would draw too much attention to herself if she looked like she was searching for someone and that would not bode well for a private conversation between her and the Commander.

Evelyn rubbed the heels of her palms over her eyes as she tried to think about what she needed to do. Not only could she not leave her husband in this state of distress, but the Inquisitor needed her Commander.

She pressed the heels in deeper, until pinpoints of light flashed behind her eyelids, the left one pulsing with a green tinge as the anchor pulsed with her anxiety.

With a frustrated huff, she flung her hands down and went to the crafting table where Cullen had ravished her and began setting the rest of it to rights as she continued to think, picking up the odds and ends of leather and armour, piling up the patterns and schematics that had been knocked to the floor and picking up a finished piece, a large floppy hat that she had made for Cole.

Evelyn hugged it to her body. What she wouldn’t give for the spirit’s insight at this moment. She couldn’t even make sense of her own thoughts, let alone guess at Cullen’s.

She pulled the soft leather up to her lips and pressed it to them as she let out a quiet sob.

The sob deepened as she felt a pair of arms come around her and rock her gently.

Evelyn dropped his hat and turned in Cole’s arms to rest her head against his chest, uncaring of the buckles of his coat or the throwing daggers concealed there.

Cole brought a hand up to stroke her hair as he whispered calmly to her until she stilled.

“Shhh… It’s alright to be confused. You can’t fix things that he has to fix himself. You’re doing your best.”

Evelyn looked up into Cole’s ice blue eyes, waiting for more.

Since their trip to Redcliffe to discover why his protective amulet wasn’t working, Cole had settled back into his true nature as a Spirit of Compassion.

He could still be as confusing in his phrasing as he ever had been, especially if one was listening to him speak of someone’s thoughts and hurts other than their own, but sometimes Cole could be as precise and penetrating with his words as he was with his blades.

Cole brought his hands up to Evelyn’s face, framing it with his long fingers.

“You want me to help you to help him and I _will_ do that, but not now. There’s more to be done that he must do on his own.”

Cole’s eyes looked away from hers for a moment and became unfocused.

“Asleep for twenty years. He wants to wake, but can’t, pulled over and over into the blue darkness. He’s always in the darkness…fell in deep, dove into it, with his first draught. The sun and moon have faded from his sky and he can’t find his way back to who he was. There are no stars to guide him. So dark, so cold, so lost and hungry for it still. Blind. He needs to touch, to grasp at anything in the dark. Evelyn…not the anchor, you are the last bright light in the endless blue. He is afraid he will blot you out too.”

He stood, looked into her eyes again and smiled, despite the desolate message that he’d just delivered. He brought her head to rest against him again as he whispered in her ear.

“Shadows fall and hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come. The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come.”

Evelyn remembered the moment in the valley beyond the ruins of Haven when the members of the Inquisition sang those words to her, heartened her to continue fighting for them all.

“Cullen believes those words. He sang them to you, but he also sang them to himself. It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

Evelyn sagged in relief against him. His words a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

“Thank you, Cole,” she whispered into his chest as she hugged him close.

“Helping you makes me very happy,” he acknowledged and left her embrace to pick up the hat that she’d dropped onto the floor. He brushed off the dirt from the rim and placed it on his head where it successfully obscured his pale features and blonde hair.

The hat tipped toward her.

“Thank you for my hat, Evelyn.”

She blinked…and he was gone.

Evelyn stood for a moment in the empty Undercroft, processing Cole’s words and steading herself. She blew out the air from her lungs and pushed the silver blonde hair away from her face.

Without knowing where Cullen was, there was really only one thing she could think to do, now that her thoughts were clearer, and she resolved to wait for Cullen in his office.

* * *

Evelyn made it through the Great Hall, only having to speak briefly to a few persistent diplomats, took the short cut through Solas’ rotunda to reach Cullen’s tower and slipped inside the door without drawing too much attention to herself so that she could wait in peace for Cullen to return.

She was surprised then to find a messenger standing at attention beside Cullen’s empty desk.

“Inquisitor!” The soldier snapped a salute quickly as she faced him. “Commander Cullen isn’t here, Ser. He’s currently meeting with the Seeker, Ser.”

“Thank you, soldier. At ease,” she ordered.

Evelyn’s brows furrowed deeply between her eyes in her confusion. What could Cullen need so badly to speak with Cassandra about that took precedent over the fiasco of their conversation in the Undercroft?

A niggling sense of foreboding rose up her spine.

“Can you tell me where I might find them?” She asked.

“I believe that Seeker Pentaghast was in the courtyard smithy when the Commander went looking for her, Your Worship,” the soldier blinked for a moment before continuing. “Would you like me to summon a runner to take a message to them?”

“No, thank you. I’ll go to them myself.”

“Good day, Your Worship,” the soldier offered cheerfully with another salute.

“Thank you and good day.” Evelyn called back over her shoulder as she headed through the door that would let her go across the battlements and empty tower rooms to the tavern landing and then down to the smithy.

As she neared the smithy she was surprised to hear none of its regular sounds; hammers striking tempered iron, the loud chatter between the blacksmiths as they tried to converse over the clanging and the roar of the furnace. None of it was present, only two very low voices that could only be heard when she pressed her ear to the door.

“You’ve asked for my opinion and I’ve given it,” Cassandra said sharply. Evelyn could hear the determination in her voice. “Why would you expect it to change?”

“I expect you to keep your word.” Cullen barked back.

 _Word? What word?_ Evelyn thought.

“It’s relentless,” he continued. “I can’t - “

Evelyn cringed as his voice broke. He was in so much pain.

She pushed the door open quietly and slipped inside.

She saw Cassandra pacing as Cullen stood eerily still near the forge. “You give yourself too little credit,” the Seeker’s voice softened as she spoke, her hands raised as if trying to calm a spooked animal.

“If I’m unable to fulfil what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this.” Evelyn’s heart thumped in her chest as she walked toward the pair. Her heart broke for him.

“Would you rather save face than admit –“ Cullen’s head snapped up to look at Evelyn as she neared them and he stopped whatever it was he was about to say.

Pain and self-loathing crossed his face as he looked at her, as though he were searching her face for any sign of condemnation. He found none, but still abruptly walked passed her.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to her as he passed, his fingers lightly brushing hers as he did.

Evelyn wanted to follow him, but she remembered Cole’s words from the Undercroft and decided that seeking out an explanation from Cassandra about her discussion was a better use of her time than trying to pull information out of a clearly distraught Cullen.

Cassandra kicked at the dirt floor of the smithy, arms crossed and tense as Evelyn approached her.

“And people say I’m stubborn,” she huffed. “This is ridiculous.”

“Cullen told you that he’s no longer taking lyrium?” She asked, already assuming that Cullen would not have neglected to tell his wife.

“Of course,” Evelyn confirmed, “and I respect his decision.”

“As do I,” Cassandra affirmed. “Not that he’s willing to listen.”

She huffed and turned away to brace her hands on one of the anvils.

“Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.” Cassandra turned again and pulled herself up tall. “I refused,” she stated confidently. “It’s not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

Evelyn could only feel sad. “Why didn’t he come to me? I’m his wife,” her voice sounded small and heavy with that sadness.

Cassandra crossed the space and laid her hands on her friend’s shoulders. “We had an agreement long before you joined us and long before your marriage. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers. I also think that he wouldn’t want to…risk your disappointment,” she said softly.

Evelyn accepted Cassandra’s words. All of them. It was obvious that Cullen’s condition was far worse than she had anticipated and in that state he would rely on the safeguards that he’d already put in place. Evelyn also knew beyond a doubt that Cullen worked tirelessly to protect her and this situation was no different, he wanted to spare her his pain, even though she couldn’t let him.

“Is there anything we can do to change his mind?” She asked, resolute.

“If anyone could, it’s you,” Cassandra offered gently. “Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself – and anyone who would follow suit – that it’s possible.”

The truth of her words sank in deeply. There was so much at stake in this, not the least of which was Cullen’s life.

“He can do this,” she continued. “I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him. Decide if now’s the time.”

Cassandra left Evelyn alone in the smithy, the heat of the fires cooling from the lack of tending to the furnaces. Unwatched, Evelyn pulled one of the pokers from the wall and thrust it into the glowing coals. She stirred them for a moment before pulling the poker out and stabbing it back in again and again. The hiss of the coals as she broke them apart and as the flames started to burn brighter again, satisfied her violent feelings. In that moment she loved the Maker, but hated the Chantry. She knew that there had been a lot of good done by a lot of people in the name of the Maker and his Bride, but the evils that had also been done, to the Templars, the Mages and all those who stood in the way of Chantry agenda, could not be overlooked and Evelyn shook in her anger.

If she believed that she’d been given this power; the Anchor, her political standing and her magic, then she knew that she was to be an instrument of change.

 _By the Maker, I will see it done!_ She vowed.

 _First thing’s first,_ she thought. _It’s time to see my husband._


	4. Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly canon conversation between Cullen and Evelyn (even though it came earlier in the game). As Cole says...the calm before the storm.

Cullen’s breath was ragged by the time he got back to his tower, not from the exertion of climbing the stairs, but from the anxiety that ricocheted through his body.

“OUT!” He shouted at the soldier that he’d posted to his office before his meeting with Cassandra. As with Harrit and Dagna in the Undercroft, the soldier could tell by Cullen’s tone that he should not stay and ask for orders, but leave in haste.

No sooner had the door clicked shut than Cullen swiped the reports from his desk with a raging growl, sending the papers fluttering down across the room. It wasn’t enough. He slammed his gloved fists down onto the empty wooden desk with another grunt, but all he really wanted to do was cry.

 _It’s hopeless! HOPELESS!_ He thought. _I’ll never be free of it._

Despair was like ice in his veins.

He wrenched open his desk drawer and pulled out the box that held the last lyrium draught that he’d prepared.

It seemed so innocuous; just a small apparatus containing a minor amount of blue liquid, but it may as well have been ropes of silverite chain for how it had bound him to the Order and to the Chantry.

Once again he felt the tightening of that chain as he stared at the box and its contents. Was freedom an illusion?

His pain and rage flared again, and with no one to restrain him, he picked up the box and threw it with all his might across the room and watched it crash against the door…right by his wife’s head.

“Maker’s Breath! I didn’t hear you enter. I- Forgive me.” He felt defeated as he saw her face fill with pity.

Evelyn began walking toward him slowly. “Cullen,” she whispered. Her voice a soothing balm. “If you need to talk…”

Guilt suffused him. “You don’t have to –“

Pain shot through his deprived body and he was overcome by weakness. He felt his knees buckle beneath him and he stifled a groan as he caught himself, grasping the window sill and desk.

Evelyn leapt for him then, bracing him with her body. Part of him wanted to accept her help, to just sink into her embrace and let the weakness be. The other part of him knew that if he did that, he would never be able to pull himself out of the pit. That part of himself was just strong enough to allow him to step away from his wife and stand on his own, his hand held up to stop her from helping him again.

Cullen could see the comprehension in her eyes, and something more… _pride?_

“I never meant for this to interfere,” he told her.

He had hoped that any suffering that he had to endure would never touch the work that he did with the Inquisition, though he was much less naïve about it affecting his marriage. Evelyn had helped him through countless migraines and nightmares, but this was even more than he could ask of her. His strength was waning and his mind was tortured with hallucinations and memories. She couldn’t have known that it would be like this when she made her vows to him. He couldn’t have known. It had been so long since he’d left Kirkwall and lyrium behind that he thought that what he had suffered already would be the worst of it. He’d been so very wrong.

She raised her hand warily, perhaps to offer him comfort, but she dropped it quickly. He knew that she was trying to be careful and he ached for how she must be feeling.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked, clearly wanting to ask more, but holding back.

“Yes…” _Don’t lie to her! She doesn’t deserve that._ “I don’t know,” he sighed.

He couldn’t hide it any more. He’d given her vague references and snippets of his past, but he had never fully expressed to her his experiences and their consequences. He’d told her that he’d been at Kinloch Hold, the Fereldan Circle, when it had fallen to blood mages, but he’d never revealed the particulars of his torture or the depth of how it had affected him. She didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark any longer when she was trying so hard to help him with what little detail she had been able to glean on her own. She had asked gently, but had never pressed him, for information about that time, hoping that he might let her in to help him heal. Perhaps it was time.

“You’ve asked what happened at Fereldan’s Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The Templars –“ his voice broke, “my friends – were slaughtered. I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I – How can you be the same person after that?”

Cullen looked over to Evelyn. She was standing so still, not moving a muscle, unwilling to interrupt him and just letting him speak, but he could see the unshed tears in her eyes. Her compassion always undid him.

“Still, I wanted to serve.” He continued, letting it all pour out from him into her keeping. “They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of Mages ended in madness,” he spat.

Cullen began to pace behind his desk. “Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets.” He clenched his fists in rage. “Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

Evelyn moved instantly to his side. “Of course I can! I –“

 _I don’t deserve your kindness!_ “Don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done.”

He began pacing again as she took a step back.

“I thought this would be better – that I would regain some control over my life, but these thoughts won’t leave me…” the raw agony in his voice made Evelyn flinch.

“How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause…”

 _I’m failing you! I’m failing everyone!_ He thought, his fear tightened into a hard knot in his gut and dropped down to his feet.

“I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry… I should be taking it.” He looked at the shattered glass vial and the spilled blue liquid seeping into the stone floor.

Futility overwhelmed him and he punched the bookshelf with all his strength, sending books tumbling from their shelves. He looked at them, pages open to passages about military history, maps and strategies, all those things that held him prisoner now.

He felt the warmth of her body first and then her hand on his shoulder. All the rage and resentment left his body as he waited for her judgement and censure, waited for her to affirm that he had no choice but to resume taking lyrium.

“This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition, or us, or anything or anyone else for that matter.” Evelyn touched his face, guiding him to look at her again. “What do _you_ want? Do you truly want to take lyrium again?”

He felt a link in the chain of his lyrium leash break in the light of her words, some sanity returning to his thoughts.

_If there were no responsibilities, no one else looking over my shoulder, nothing but myself, would I choose lyrium over the withdrawal?_

“No.”

He turned to face her, taking her hand from his shoulder and holding it in his. “No,” he said again more clearly, “I don’t. But…these memories have always haunted me. If they become worse, if I cannot endure this…”

She brought her other hand to rest over his heart. “You can.”

Her voice had never sounded so sure, so completely and unshakably sure.

Cullen exhaled all his doubt and pulled her to him, taking in her strength. She kissed his stubbled neck, his lips, his cheeks, every kiss a promise to see him through.

He held her face in his hands and kissed her in return, in gratitude. “All right.”

“You’re not alone,” Evelyn whispered into his ear.

“I’m not alone,” he acknowledged.

Going forward they would do this together, come what may.

Evelyn leaned out of the embrace to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright I think.”

“Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?”

“You’ve done it.” He kissed the crown of her head. “I think that I just need to get out into some fresh air, perhaps go for a ride.”

He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Would you mind if I went on my own? I could use some quiet. Would you worry too much?”

She shook her head and gave him a tentative smile. “I trust you. I want you to know that that hasn’t changed.”

He kissed her again, a gentle brush of his lips on hers. “Thank you.”

He took a step and crushed the spine of a book under his boot. He looked at it and the others that had fallen and then at the doorway where the box and its contents still lay.

Cullen looked up at Evelyn and she turned him in the opposite direction. “You go, I’ll clean this up. Let me take care of this part.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. When you’re ready to come back, we’ll talk and we’ll figure things out together. We’ll find some new ways of helping you cope and heal. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

Cullen sighed. “The Maker only knows what I did to deserve you and only He knows what I’d be without you.”

“You need never know,” she replied and turned to pick up the books as Cullen walked out onto the battlements.

The wintery air of the Frostback Mountains cooled his feverish skin almost instantly as he made his way down to the stables.

Master Dennet was visiting his family at Redcliffe Farms, but Cullen was used to seeing to his own horse anyway. He’d feed him and give him a rub down before he left…or so he thought.

Nearing the stall where his horse was stabled, Cullen saw that the horse had been saddled already and someone was going over the horseflesh with a brush while the steed ate from a small trough of mixed roughage.

At Cullen’s approach, the horse looked up from his feast and nosed Cullen’s armour in affection.

Cullen ran his gloved hand along the horse’s muzzle. “Hello, Captain.”

Captain chuffed happily and the Commander smiled.

“Has Cole been spoiling you, boy?”

Cole, came around to hand Cullen the reins.

“Only a little,” he said as he let Captain scarf a whole apple from his outstretched hand.

When Cullen looked at him, he had such a look of pity on his face that it made his gut clench and roil again.

“No, no, no” Cole stammered. “I only want to help. I don’t want to make you feel worse.”

“It’s alright, Cole,” he told him, “it’s not you, it’s me. This was very kind…and exactly what I need.”

Cole calmed and donned the far-away look that he often had on his face when he “ _listened”._

“Yes, you need to go, out into the trees and the wind.” He nodded to him.

Cullen grabbed the horn of the saddle to pull himself up, but Cole’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“It will become worse. I’m very sorry. Gaining little footholds, then slipping, falling, drowning, never quite reaching the top. You’ve been trying so hard to climb on your own. You can’t afford to do that anymore. No one was ever meant to be freed from it, you understand. No one was meant to survive it, but you can. I promise. The others, they tried, but they always had to try alone and they became so lost and so tired. I’ve heard so many of them drowning in it. There is a secret that _they_ don’t want you to know. It will change everything. You’re going to discover it very soon and you’ve got to choose to let us all help you. I can’t hear what the secret is, but I know that it’s there, I know that you’re close. So many want to help you. I want to help. May I?”

Cullen dropped the reins and stared at the spirit with the face of a boy. His heart was in his throat. He couldn’t deny it and it terrified him.

“It will be alright,” Cole’s genuine voice washed over him, taking his fear and numbing his pain. Cullen let it, willing it away. He’d always been afraid of spirits and demons, but his _friendship_ with Cole over the last year had changed that in some ways. He’d seen the boy do beautiful things for others with the most selfless heart, even as he was fiercely protective of the innocent, using his blades in their defense. He knew that Cole was using some of his abilities on him, but he was just so thankful for it as more tension was leached out of his muscles and the knots in his belly eased completely.

“Yes, I think I’m going to need that help.” He nodded. He shook Cole’s hand, knowing that the spirit liked being treated like a person. “I’d like your help, Cole. I’d like all the help I can get. I… might not always know what it is that I need. My mind’s not always clear. I would ask you to help me talk to Evelyn – and our friends – if I can’t think or communicate clearly. Will you do that?”

“I can do that, Cullen.”

Cole handed him the reins again and Cullen mounted the horse.

“Cole –“ Cullen looked down at him as the boy fed Captain another apple. Cole looked up, his innocent blue eyes looking so deeply into Cullen’s amber ones. “Thank you. I know that you took some of my pain. Do you keep it? Does it hurt you?”

Cole shrugged his gangly shoulders. “You needed some peace, the calm before the storm. I wanted you to have a rest for a while. You’re a very important person, very important to a lot of people…a lot of things. I’ve got room for this.”

He produced another apple from his pocket and handed it to Cullen before walking out of the stables, face turned up to the sunlight, smiling.

Cullen watched him leave with a feeling of awe. He may have been wary of so much in the past, but he couldn’t deny the gift that he’d just been given by Cole. The fog had lifted from his thoughts, the physical strain had melted away from his body, leaving him feeling strong and limber. He felt energized for the first time in a very long time and the threat of hallucinations had completely disappeared. He could have wept in relief.

He’d been given time.

Cullen eased Captain out of the stables and through the courtyard. He’d take time to plan tonight with Evelyn. A storm was coming and he’d do what he did best; gather his resources and strategize. Cole was right, his most precious resources in this personal fight were the friends that he’d gathered around him.

He took a few bites of the apple, the sweet flesh giving his empty belly something to digest, and leaned forward, rubbing the side of Captain’s neck and feeding him the rest of it.

Cullen tapped his heels against Captain’s flank. “Let’s go, boy.” He urged the horse into a run and gave his senses over to the feeling of the wind on his face and the movement of the horse beneath him. He let himself enjoy it.

He had time.


	5. A Breath While He Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a moment, he knows that it can't be long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting my house up for sale in a couple of weeks so I might be a little slower as I we get closer, but I'll hopefully be able to scrape some time together to tell you more about Cullen, Evelyn and their epic race to find a way to release Cullen from his chains. Maker, I love these two!

Cullen stretched his arms out above his head and rotated his neck, hearing the familiar cracking sounds and feeling the familiar burn of his muscles. It was too soon to rise, but something had been there at the edge of his dreams. It had disturbed him enough to rouse him from his sleep, but he could feel his heartbeat settling already within his chest. He felt…okay.

Two weeks.

Cullen’s mind had been blessedly quiet for nearly two whole weeks, with only minor nightmares and none of the hallucinations that had plagued him. Whatever Cole had done in the stables that day, gave Cullen a pass for a time.

He knew though, that it couldn’t last forever. It had been a gift, but it wasn’t a cure. Cullen could feel it inching back, like fog blown away on a summer breeze, it was creeping very slowly back into place. He still felt quite good, but was preparing none-the-less, hoping not to be so caught off guard.

The entire Inner Circle of the Inquisition had been gathered those weeks ago and informed of the Commander’s struggle. It had been hard for him to share his battle, even with his friends, as he’d always tried so hard to be the solid rock that others could trust. He’d been so terribly afraid that their faith in him would be shaken and even the respect that they had for him, diminished in some way.

Of course, that had hardly been the case.

As they had all those months ago when they’d gathered in the little Chantry to celebrate his wedding to Evelyn, his friends had surrounded him with nothing but love and understanding.

The mages had immediately set out together to the Undercroft to confer with each other - a rare show of co-operation - on the best tonics and potions to keep certain symptoms at bay. After what must have been a very interesting meeting, Cullen had been given a list detailing his new regimen by the quartet. Evelyn had gone over the list nearly a dozen times to make sure that he knew what potions were to be taken when and what teas to have during each meal. There were even special concoctions to replace his shaving lotion and shampoo. Over the last two weeks he’d been very aware that he smelled like an apothecary shop, but was very grateful for their efforts.

Varric had taken it upon himself to visit him nearly every day before he retired for the night. The dwarf often came with a bottle of whiskey or port, a couple of glasses and would sit in the office while Cullen finished up with his reports.

It was funny; Cullen never could remember what they talked about each night, one story just seemed to melt into another, but at the end of each visit with Varric, he felt so relaxed and his thoughts at peace. Perhaps it was some form of hypnotism? He really was one hell of a storyteller.

Cassandra and The Iron Bull took turns sparing and training with him. Cullen had always found that the physical exertion of military training was one of the best tools at his disposal to keep his body and mind in top shape and able to handle any kind of stress and strain. The mastery of his body, knowing how far he could push every muscle or joint, being able to sense his stamina, were vital to keep on top of the physical symptoms of lyrium withdrawal. And without the mental discipline that came with training, he’d be much more vulnerable to the unpredictability of those symptoms.

Blackwall…kept his distance. They’d had a challenging time in the last few months since his secret had been revealed and the Inquisition had acted on his behalf. Cullen couldn’t deny that there were hard feelings, feelings of betrayal, but Evelyn had been instrumental in the slow healing between Blackwall - Thom Rainier as he was now known to be - and the rest of the Inquisition team.

It hadn’t been easy. Cassandra and Cullen both had been very reluctant to give him another chance, but even they had to admit that Blackwall was as dedicated in battle as any of them had ever been. Only a month ago, he had saved the Inquisitor’s life on the field when a group of darkspawn had swarmed their camp in the Western Approach.

By all accounts, Blackwall had put himself between Evelyn and Vivienne until they could get to their staves in a nearby tent and join the fray. A Genlock had come barrelling down upon them before they’d gotten to the supplies and Blackwall had kept the beast back at the expense of his shield arm, which had been practically crushed by the Goliath. Vivienne had had a terrible time trying to mend the bones once the battle had been won, and if she hadn’t been there, he would have likely never regained the use of his arm.

Cullen found it hard not to feel grateful to him for that. Healing had begun in their relationship, though distance remained between them still. However, when Cullen needed to get out of Skyhold for a bit, he always found his horse ready and saddled with a penitent-looking Blackwall retreating back into the barn.

Cole, too, had been keeping his distance for a time.

At first Cullen had thought that whatever Cole had done to help him before had taken too much out of the kind spirit. He’d planned to go up to the rooms above the tavern when he’d been there for his midday meal, to make sure that Cole was alright, but Cole appeared on the stool beside him at his little table instead.

“Hello, Cullen.”

“Cole...When did you…?”

“You’re worried. You shouldn’t be. I’m free and clear. I’ve pulled it all through and out, though it was like fire and mud for a time.”

“I appreciate what you did, Cole, but you probably shouldn’t do it again. I don’t want you to suffer for me.”

“No.” Cole agreed. “There are things that are necessary and things that are unnecessary. You weren’t ready for what’s to come before. I could take some of it for you so that you could prepare. Now you’ve prepared, I cannot take anymore.”

“What was…what do you mean?” Cullen stared in a minor state of shock. Cole’s words sounded ominous and he couldn’t help but feel the rise of panic in his gut.

“Oh! Ooops…” Cole stammered. A strange flash of light erupted from his outstretched hands. “FORGET!”

Cullen blinked.

What were they talking about?

“Is there something you were saying, Cole?” Cullen asked, slightly confused.

“Only that it makes you feel better when you don’t need my help. That’s why you haven’t seen me. When you see me, it reminds you that you needed help and it makes you sad…so I stay hidden, here but hiding.”

“I don’t mind, Cole. Seeing you also reminds me that I’m not alone.” He winked at the boy.

Cole’s face lit up like a summer morning.

“Oh! Well…I will see you then…I mean, you’ll see me,” Cole got up from the table and left with a funny little wave.

Cullen shook his head and smiled at the memory of that encounter.

Cole had taken every opportunity to catch Cullen’s eye from that moment forward, waving to him from the battlements, through windows, across the halls, and from just about anywhere else. It might have been disturbing if it hadn’t been Cole, but being friends with an embodied Spirit of Compassion was anything but conventional.

Now, Leliana and Josephine, on the other hand, had become like two mother hens. Cullen knew that Leliana had agents watching his every move and reporting back to her at every opportunity. There were times when she’d take him aside and comment on the lack of vegetables in his diet or to ask him if he was well after he’d dressed down a raw recruit in his office, who’d made some dangerous mistakes. He hadn’t stepped one foot out of his office once the recruit had left – chastised, but informed – when Leliana had walked up with a cup of tea and a listening ear.

Josephine at least had been a little more subtle, but he knew that she’d run interference with most of the dignitaries, aides and nobility that filled the halls of Skyhold. The last couple of weeks had been blessedly clear of his duty to entertain as both the Commander of the Inquisition’s Army and as the husband of the Inquisitor. Evelyn hadn’t minded in the least, and Josephine had also wrangled Dorian into accompanying the Inquisitor to any function that Cullen would have found excessively tedious. Dorian thrived in the role, of course, and it seemed that everyone was well satisfied for the moment.

Cullen knew that it couldn’t go on forever, but he did appreciate this break.

Of all of the companions, it was Sera that had surprised him the most. His career with the Inquisition had been plagued by Sera’s pranks and interference from the moment she’d arrived in Haven. She’d tampered with his furniture on more than one occasion, he was sure it had been Sera that had collapsed his tent once while on a training mission on the Storm Coast, and he’d returned to his office a number of times to find his books had been rearranged on his shelf and he couldn’t rest until they were put to rights. She’d poked and irritated him to no end in the past, but now? Nothing.

When he walked past Sera wherever they were throughout Skyhold, she’d simply say “Mornin’, Cully-Wully” or “All right, today?” She hadn’t called him a Jackboot or Commander Crabby-Pants once since learning of his struggle. He would never admit it to anyone, but he sort of missed it.

She’d even gone out of her way to be kind to him, which was a first. One afternoon, he’d searched out Evelyn in the garden and had taken her aside to speak with her.

“Sera brought me a piece of cake. She thought I looked hungry,” he’d blurted out.

Evelyn had barely stifled her laugh. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it was either an act of kindness or a trap. I was hoping you knew which.”

Evelyn had kissed him on the cheek and walked away laughing, leaving Cullen to wonder still.

He’d quickly learned that it had actually _been_ kindness, as were little things like a tiny pot of fresh honey that had arrived on his desk at the same time as his tray of toast and tea and a scribbled note at the bottom of a request for aide that he’d received saying “Got this one for you. Sit tight,” and an accompanying drawing of a fleet of Red Jennys leaping to the rescue.

He’d gotten the courage, just the day before, to ask Sera why she was being so nice to him and she’d answered with a surprised “Yeah, I’m an arsehole, but I’m not _that_ kind of arsehole.” Then she’d slapped his cheek twice and pulled him into the tavern for a pint...on him.

* * *

Cullen sat on the bed, looking down at his sleeping wife. Evelyn looked so unburdened when she slept and even though he’d been startled awake by a terrible dream, he could never mind having the opportunity to see her like this. It lightened his heart. Thinking about the support that the two of them shared and the support they had from the rest of their friends lightened his heart.

The nightmares were slowly returning. He wasn’t ready just yet to let on that he was afraid.

He sat in the silence of the night, with the moonlight falling upon him through the glass windows and doors of their room. Whatever had happened and whatever was coming, he took a deep breath and filled his thoughts with gratitude.

_Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide…._

_Maker, I have been blessed with the unconditional love and support of so many, as unworthy as I may be. If it is your Will, help me to utilize this precious gift to see me through to the other side of the dark night that is to come. Help me to hold tight to the knowledge of their love, even when I am unable to feel it, and grant the same to those who have cared for me, the knowledge that I love them, even when I am unable to show it._

_Maker, shield me even as I enter the Void, that I may not be lost forever to the darkness._

_By your Will it is done._

Cullen, pulled back the blankets and nestled himself back in to shelter Evelyn’s vulnerable body, kissing her hair and feeling her warmth.

He let himself be in this moment alone, the past and future disappearing into the Void while he kept his thoughts on his state of peace and comfort, the ease in his body as he held his wife and the calm of this thoughts as he thought of his blessings.

In this moment, it was enough.


	6. Angel of The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment between Cullen and Evelyn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't do it. I just wasn't ready for Cullen to go into the dark place, so I wrote some smut instead. Take it! *throws it and runs away*

Cullen stood out on the balcony of their suite while servants set up their breakfast and did a quick tidy of the room. Evelyn had requested the morning off for the two of them and intended that they spend all of it in their room.

There was a fog that had settled over Skyhold and from their rooms it looked as though they were a city built in the clouds. He mused that all the rest of the world was so far beneath them and it gave him the illusion of peace and solitude that he found he liked very much.

The sun was bright that morning and Cullen knew that the fog would dissipate quickly in the heat, but he was thankful to have caught the view when he had. He found that he was able to do that more often, appreciate the moment for what it was.

As the ladies finished their work, Evelyn thanked them and saw them to the door. When they’d gone, she turned and skipped happily back to where Cullen had just come in from the balcony.

Though it was a warmer day, the fire was still lit in the room to keep away any mountain chill that might linger, and the sight of Cullen in his robe by the fire pleased her.

She went over to him and wound her arms around his muscled waist, pressing herself into his chest and rubbing her cheek into the softness of his robe. While she preferred her champagne silk, Cullen’s robe was all plush and warm.

Cullen threaded the fingers of one hand loosely through the hair at the nape of her neck and scratched her scalp to elicit an appreciative hum from his wife, which he was very satisfied to receive.

“Mmmmm…Love, why are we awake so early? I booked us a morning off so that we could be lazy gits and not get out of bed before noon.” Evelyn peeked out the windows behind him to the early morning light. “And it’s definitely _not_ noon,” she said in mock petulance, looking up from his chest to his gorgeous amber eyes.

Cullen added another hand to her hair and continued his rhythmic scratching, pleased again when she closed her eyes and a little smile graced her lips.

“Force of habit, darling,” he laughed. ”That, and someone forgot to inform the kitchen that we were to be lazy gits this morning.”

“Mmmhmmm” came the muffled response from the collar of his robe.

Pulling his fingers from her hair provoked a “hmpf” sound from his wife.

Cullen pulled her toward the trays set up beside the settee. “Come, there are some of your favourites here; hot Orlesian croissants and butter, preserves, honey – and look,” he lifted a pot and smelled the delectable aroma of the liquid within, “coffee. When was the last time you had a cup of coffee?”

He poured a cup for her and for himself and put in a liberal amount of thick cream and sugar into both before handing one to her.

Evelyn took it and held it up to her nose, breathing in deeply. “Alright, this is almost worth it,” she said as she took an appreciative sip. Coffee had become difficult to come by since many of the Orlesian farms along the Exalted Plains had been torched or sabotaged in the civil war that had rocked all of Orlais. Even though the war was over and Celene still reigned victorious, it was going to take some time for the crops to recover. The tea farms of the Free Marches had enjoyed a boom in their demand and Evelyn was secretly pleased that places like Ostwick, Starkhaven and, especially, Kirkwall were seeing an influx into their economy as a result.

As she sipped her coffee, she slowly strolled over to the doors that Cullen had come in from. Despite her complaints about rising early, she never tired of watching the sunrise as it came over the Frostbacks and the light that filtered in through the glass-paned doors, was warm and bright.

Evelyn set her coffee on the mantle of the fireplace and stretched like a cat in the sun’s rays. One side of her robe slipped off the shoulder.

From behind her she heard Cullen’s appreciative sounds.

She looked over her exposed shoulder to see Cullen watching her from the settee, his mug covering the grin on his face. He took a long sip of his coffee and continued to stare at her leisurely.

“Maker, you’re a beautiful sight,” he finally said.

Evelyn hummed happily and turned to face the glass doors again.

Cullen was about to cross the room to go to her, but before he could, she peeked over her shoulder once more and lifted her hands to loosen the pins from her hair.

One by one she removed them and let the heavy silver-blonde strands of her hair fall and curl seductively over her bare shoulder and down her back.

As she turned to face him, she let the other shoulder of her robe drop as she carefully held it closed at her breasts.

Cullen sucked in a breath at the deliberate tease.

“What are you doing, Ev?” he asked, his voice low and quiet.

“Me?” she countered, even as she walked toward him and let the robe slip further down, exposing more of her arms and back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ser.”

Evelyn stopped only a foot away from his seat and turned her back to him once more, showing him the breathtakingly smooth skin that was no longer covered in champagne coloured silk.

He growled, and in that moment she let the robe drop completely from her body.

Cullen was up in a flash and spun her around to haul her to him. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing, Princess.”

He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, knowing that they had the whole morning to themselves.

Evelyn moaned appreciatively into his mouth and rocked her hips against his, trying to get as close as possible, only his robe between them. She could feel his hard length pressed against her belly.

She ran her hands up to his shoulders and pressed him back down to the settee while nipping at his lips. When he was sitting at one end, she knelt beside him on the other side.

Cullen immediately reached out to cup her breast in his hand. The weight and warmth of it instantly igniting the heat that coiled in his belly. He ran his calloused thumb over the nipple there and he bit her lip when she sucked in a breath.

He looked up into the sapphire depths of her eyes, seeing the arousal that was plain in them.

He leaned forward and pressed warm kisses to the same breast, thoroughly pleased when her nipple hardened into a stiff peak as he drew it into his mouth, doing the same to the other breast until both were flushed and hard under his ministrations.

Evelyn closed her eyes, lost in the heady heat of his attentions…until she felt his fingers brush her core. Her eyes snapped open and locked onto his as one of his long fingers ran along her seam. Her eyes were nearly black with her awakened passion and Cullen gave her a self-satisfied smile as he pressed his finger further in to circle the tight bud there.

Evelyn moaned again and pulled his mouth to hers as she rocked against his hand. One finger slid deep and was then joined by another as they kissed, their tongues finding a similar rhythm of press and withdraw.

Cullen’s other hand grasped her hip and pulled it toward him. At his signal, Evelyn swung her leg over and straddled him as she rode his hand. She was panting and Cullen couldn’t think of a more perfect sound. He could tell that she was losing herself to their lovemaking and nothing made him feel more validated than pleasing her.

As his fingers kept up their pace, his thumb circled her clit. She was no longer panting, but struggling for breath, unable to catch up as she tumbled toward release.

Evelyn’s hands flew to the tie of Cullen’s robe and clumsily undid the knot there so she could tear it open and put her hands on his fevered flesh. She rubbed her hands over the sculpted plains of his chest, scraping her nails over his nipples and down to the rigid erection between them. She stroked him as she continued to rock against his fingers.

Cullen leaned in to kiss her breasts again and her head fell backward. One of her own hands joined his at the juncture of her thighs, her own fingers helping his to bring her over the edge.

Her whole body quaked. “Cullen?” she practically wept, not even knowing what she was asking for, but he gave it to her nonetheless as he pulled his fingers out to rub wetly against her flesh.

She screamed and found her release, Cullen held her still against him as his fingers made sure that she was thoroughly undone.

Evelyn rested her head on his shoulder, catching her breath, her heart pounding while Cullen wrote words of love at the base of her spine with his fingertips.

Feeling too glorious for words, Evelyn pulled herself up to kiss him again before removing herself from Cullen’s lap and kneeling again beside him on the settee.

“You are _very_ good at that, Mr. Rutherford,” she purred.

“I’m good at many things, Mrs. Rutherford,” he smirked.

“Oh, Cullen. So am I.”

Without another word, she took him in her hand and began to stroke, long lazy strokes that made his eyes roll back in pleasure.

Cullen collapsed, sliding forward in the seat so that his neck was cradled by the back of the settee. He let his legs fall wide as his wife caressed him.

Evelyn loved seeing his complete trust and bent over his lap to place wet kisses to the head of his shaft.

Cullen hissed in a breath.

She took the throbbing head of him in her mouth with the sweetest pressure, running her tongue over the slit and releasing the whole thing with a ‘pop’ of her lips.

He wanted to fist his hands in her hair, to take control, but he resisted, barely.

Evelyn could feel the tension building in his muscles, his thighs, taut and quivering. She raked her nails through the dusting of little blonde curls that covered them and drove him further into madness by cupping his heavy sack and squeezing gently.

“Ughhh – “

Evelyn looked up from her work, spearing him with her heated gaze and with only that look, commanded him to watch as she took him fully into her mouth and sucked her way back up again.

He couldn’t help it, his hand went straight for her hair. He caught himself before he fisted his hand within it, instead he stroked her hair, like the precious thing that she was, and ran his fingertips down her spine to grasp her bottom and squeeze it as she was squeezing him.

Her mouth on him was heaven, but it was quickly becoming too much.

He squeezed her bottom again and pulled it toward him. Evelyn released him from her mouth and smiled seductively at his leading. Quickly acting on his guidance, she straddled him again. She grasped his length in her hand and positioned it at her entrance. She savoured the feel of him, like warm steel.

Despite the intensity of the moment, she found herself able to giggle at the thought; if he was like warm steel, the fire within her was forge ready.

Cullen grasped her hips to hold her still above him and slowly pressed up to bury the tip of him inside her.

She keened lowly as she was breached. She wanted to lower herself onto him, impale herself, but he held her prisoner as he pressed and retreated in the shallowest of strokes.

Her muscles began to tremble, not in strain, but frustration, until he finally let her sink down to take him fully.

Cullen pulled himself up into a sitting position so that he could pull her against his chest and kiss her as they sat, joined. They shared long, languorous kisses as he rocked into her and she rolled on top of him.

In that moment, nothing else existed. He stared at her in rapture. The light that filtered into the room behind her, lit her like a halo.

He kissed her breasts again and her head dropped forward. He loved the cascade of her moon-kissed hair as it hung like a curtain around them. He kissed her clavicle and the hollow of her throat. He kissed her jaw and nipped her ear just to hear her laugh again. Every kiss was a promise, an offer of devotion.

Cullen brought his hands up to sweep her hair back and caress her face as he kissed her mouth deeply.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his once more.

“Cullen –“ She rolled her hips over him and he could feel the clench of her sex that told him she was close again.

As though she weighed a feather, he stood up and switched their positions while still sheathed deep within her. He sat her on the edge of the settee and stood in front of her, one knee resting on the settee beside her. He lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders as he began to stroke inside her again.

“Maker, Ev –“

Her breasts bounced in perfect sync with his thrusts and he couldn’t take his eyes off them.

He eased her legs down and bent them so that they dropped to either side of their bodies, opening her wide. He pulled his knee from beside her and planked himself, with his arms on either side of her. He leaned down to capture her breast in his mouth and sank as deeply as he could within her before setting a pounding pace.

Evelyn couldn’t hold on any more. Her hand flew to the place where they were joined and pressed circles into her clit while she screamed and sobbed her release.

“Yes!” he roared, not letting up for a moment as her orgasm went on and on. Her sex tightened reflexively around him, mimicking the suction of her mouth on him from earlier.

One, two, three strokes…and his rhythm was broken as he pulsed inside of her, coming hard and fast as she held him to her.

Evelyn moaned as he withdrew from her, but smiled contentedly as he lifted her from the settee and carried her to their bed.

He collapsed beside her and drew her in to the circle of his arms.

“Mmmm, that was a better breakfast than I thought it would be,” she sighed.

Cullen looked over at the tray of food that had stayed untouched, but for the two cups of coffee.

“I agree,” he smiled and squeezed her tightly to him. “That will make a better snack anyway…later.”

“Yes, much later,” she agreed just before she let herself doze to the sound of his heartbeat.


	7. What Dreams May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn needs to leave for the Frostback Basin, but worries for Cullen. Thankfully, she's not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus Over!
> 
> This is just a small drabble chapter to get me going again. I had to take a small hiatus - I moved twice, sold two houses, bought one, got a dog, my father got cancer (but is doing well), I'm changing my business and am just in the midst of starting a program for LGBTQ+ youth... but I'm feeling grounded and balanced once again and Cullen started whispering again "what about me?"
> 
> Let's do this, Cullen. Let's do this.
> 
> Glad to be back!
> 
> Kitty

Evelyn paced back and forth in front of the door to the rotunda near the entrance to the great hall, her thoughts troubled as was evidenced by the persistent chewing of her bottom lip.

“Careful, Half-Pint, or you’re liable to wear a trench in the floor.”

Evelyn’s teeth released her lip on a surprised gasp as she spun on the spot to see Varric, arms folded across his broad chest and a question written on his brow.

“You startled me,” she scolded lightheartedly.

“I gathered,” he replied in his charming baritone, instantly putting his friend at ease. “How are things holding up with Curly?”

Evelyn’s shoulders dropped as she let out a long breath.

“That good, huh?”

Varric dropped into his favourite seat in the great hall, by the table littered with his papers and the remains of his breakfast, and gestured to another chair for Evelyn to take.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked gently.

She didn’t take the offered seat, but leaned heavily against the table instead.

“It’s fine, Varric. _He’s_ fine, really. Things have been good for a few weeks now. It’s just…”

“You’re leaving,” he finished for her.

“I’m leaving,” she confirmed. “I know that I’ve got to, the Frostback Basin camp has been built and all the supplies have arrived, so it’s time for me to check in there, and I know that I’ve left before and everything has been fine, but,” she paused, “I can see something in his eyes sometimes…”

It had been nearly a month since Cullen and Evelyn had decided to let their inner circle in on the problems Cullen had been having with lyrium addiction. They’d all done their parts to help; some sharing in some of the duties to give Cullen the time to rest that he wasn’t getting before, and others providing a listening ear to both of them whenever they needed. Varric saw Cullen fairly regularly when the Commander was up to being social, but now also had a standing reservation at the tavern with Evelyn to share a pint of her favourite Ferelden stout at least once a week when she was home from her missions. There were no finer people than their friends.

“Ah, shit. You think that the nightmares are back, don’t you?”

“I can’t say for certain, I know that he’s had a few off and on and he hasn’t said anything outright, but he wakes up more exhausted than when he went to sleep and I’m afraid that if I leave, he’ll have to deal with them on his own.”

Evelyn resumed the gnawing of her bottom lip as she looked to the rotunda door once more.

“I thought that maybe…Solas…”

Understanding struck. “Ah,” he said, standing up from his seat and leaning beside her against the table, his shoulder resting at the level of her hip, “you want Solas to watch out for him, do you?”

Evelyn simply nodded.

“Well, I guess out of anyone at Skyhold, Chuckles knows more about the Fade and dreaming than anyone else would even want to. Is that why you’ve been pacing outside the door here?” he asked.

Another nod.

“It’s a good idea. I’ll leave you to it, Half-Pint.”

Varric pushed away from the table and squeezed Evelyn’s hand.

“I don’t dream so I’m of no use to you there, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am that I wasn’t with you at Adamant. I went to the Fade once with Hawke and that was enough for one lifetime. It’s no place for a dwarf!”

Seeing the smile on Evelyn’s lips, Varric squeezed her hand again.

“You know that we’ll all watch out for Cullen while you’re gone. There’s nothing any one of us wouldn’t do for the two of you. I can’t promise that he’ll have any coin when you get back, or clothes for that matter, but we’ll keep him busy.”

Evelyn’s smile grew wider. “Thank you, Varric, but as a favour, draw the line at coin, would you? He was scowling at the soldiers for a week after the last time. Take pity on them.”

“It won’t be half as much fun, but I suppose you’re right; no more Commando Commander at Wicked Grace. I’ve got a pretty good description for my book from the last time anyway.” Varric laughed and gathered his papers from the table, turning to leave the hall.

“Varric! You wouldn’t dare!” she laughed as he walked away, waving noncommittally, until Evelyn was once again alone at the mouth of the door to Solas’ office.

She was grateful for Varric’s skill in easing her anxiety with conversation and humour and felt renewed in her determination to solicit help from Solas. It was true; there was no better expert on the Fade in Skyhold and, Evelyn was sure, in all of Thedas than Solas. She’d walked in dreams with the other mage herself upon their arrival at Skyhold. She knew that if anyone could help Cullen with this aspect of his withdrawal symptoms, it was him.

There was nothing left to do. She drew in a deep breath, tugged at the bottom of her fitted leather vest and opened the door to find her friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Every hit, kudo, comment and bookmark fills me to the brim with inspiration and joy. Thank you so much for reading and clicking! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.


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